


The Safe House

by madlaw



Series: Moments In Time [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlaw/pseuds/madlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want to play?"  </p><p>"Why not, there’s nothing better to do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safe House

It didn’t take long for both of them to be bored out of their minds.  Root because Shaw won’t talk, Shaw because Root talks too much; both of them only agreeing TV sucks.  Root has tried to coax Shaw out from behind her walls and connect, but to no avail.  Shaw knows what she wants, but she won’t let herself go there.  Root’s a psychopath and Shaw wants no part of it. 

But it’s not true.  Shaw’s a sociopath.  She understands Root’s idiosyncrasies without needing explanation.   It doesn’t make a difference to her or make her wary or uncomfortable.  But she wants no part of the confusion Root creates in her.  She makes all sorts of exceptions when Root’s around, acting contrary to her nature.  It’s dangerous and could easily get Shaw or someone else killed.  Not that Shaw cares about dying, but she has no intention of dying because she's distracted by a psychopath.

They end up sitting around with CNN playing in the background.  Shaw’s already cleaned her gun twice and for once, the Machine’s quiet in Root’s ear, having no instructions for her other than to wait for the CIA transfer team.  While they wait, Root casually picks up the hood and zip-ties and seductively asks Shaw, "You want to play?"  She’s sure Shaw will just roll her eyes and ignore her like she’s been doing for the last few hours, but teasing is the only entertainment left for Root.  Plus Root thinks it’s worth a shot.  If Shaw won’t open up verbally, maybe she’ll open up physically.  If nothing else, it'll be a fun way to ease the tension currently sucking the air out of the room.

Shaw does roll her eyes, but obviously turned on, she looks at Root, saying, "Why not, there’s nothing better to do."  Scowling, Shaw lists the ground rules.  "This is a one-night stand.  We will never discuss it.  If you breathe a word to anyone else about it, I will kill you.  Just to be clear, this is only sex.  Can you live with that?"  Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Root will take what she can get.  Smiling suggestively, Root agrees, "Of course sweetie."  Shaw almost calls it off right then, but the thought of spending the rest of the night with Root talking quells the impulse.

Never one to waste time, Shaw grabs Root’s hand and pulls her down to the couch so she’s on Shaw’s lap.  She’s disoriented for a moment, the feel of Root’s skin making her heart skip a beat.  Briefly, Shaw considers stopping before they start; sensing sex between them will certainly complicate their lives.  But Root’s already licking at her lips, her taste sweet and tart like the apples she seems to like so much.  Caution not really being her style anyway, Shaw goes with it…plus she’s really turned on and her body seems to have a mind of its own.

They reluctantly pull apart to undress.  Ripped clothing would be quite embarrassing when the transfer team shows up.  Facing each other, they keep their gazes locked and undress slower than strictly necessary.  Shaw catches her breath when she sees Root naked for the first time, like Eve in the garden.  Root’s body radiates strength and all her planes and angles come together in perfect balance, making Shaw’s mouth water.  Giving her a lascivious smile, Root slowly rakes her gaze down Shaw’s body.  Shaw’s biceps and midriff are well defined, her ass tight and curvy, and Root is captivated by the color of her skin, a rich olive color so different from Root’s own paleness. 

Root feels desire sparking like an agitation in her soul.  It goes beyond wanting to get off.  It’s a want to explore, and lick, and taste, and pleasure.  They step towards each other unconsciously.  Inpatient, Shaw pulls Root to her, bringing their bodies together, claiming her mouth like an erotic explorer.  As they start to tease each other, fighting for dominance, Root surrenders, knowing Shaw doesn’t trust her enough, or at all really, to let Root take the lead. 

Shaw pulls them towards the couch, lying down so Root’s under her.  She straddles Root’s midriff, and she smiles suggestively, pulling Shaw down so their nipples are touching.  Shaw takes the opportunity to bite the sensitive skin on Root’s neck and nibbles her earlobe, letting her tongue lightly travel the rim.  “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment we met.”  Root knew sex with Shaw would be amazing the minute she cut Shaw loose in the car.  There was clearly passion under the anger, Shaw leaning into Root’s body, their faces millimeters apart, not moving even after she lowered the knife, danger evident in her body.  But Root now suspects she really had no idea just how amazing it would be.  Shaw rarely speaks, using her body to communicate more often than not.  So it never occurred to her Shaw would talk during sex, much less without any pretense.

Refusing to relinquish an ounce of control, Shaw bites down sharply on Root’s lower lip, intentionally bruising, while raising her hands above her head.  Distracted, Root doesn’t realize she’s zip-tied until she hears the rip of the teeth interlocking.  Shaw lifts up enough to look into her eyes, a smug smile on her face, “Turnabout's fair play."  She studies Root unabashedly.  "You're so fucking hot."  She leans in capturing Root's mouth and explores as if Root’s undiscovered territory.  It shoots a current-like wave down to Root’s center.  Sliding down so that she’s straddling her thighs, Shaw skims her body with her hands, barely touching, making Root shiver like stepping out into the sun after you've spent too long in the cold, leaving her desperate like she’s drowning and Shaw’s the shore.

Making sure Root is okay, Shaw pauses, and then slowly pulls the hood over Root's head. She doesn't pull it all the way down, allowing Root to breathe easily and leaving her mouth exposed for other activities.  She continues nipping, biting, sucking Root’s body, like the wind in a sand storm, giving pain as well as pleasure.  Root’s sure she’s never felt anything more erotic.  But Shaw suddenly stands up, leaving her body with only the memory of being touched, like a dream.  Root’s desperate to feel Shaw’s touch, but she has no idea where to turn.  Tugging on the zip-tie, Root realizes she can free herself at any time.  The restraint is mental not physical.  Root must choose to submit to Shaw’s will.  She surrenders unconditionally. 

Shaw softly starts talking, but Root can't tell where her voice is coming from, it seems Shaw surrounds her like a song; it’s disturbing and comforting at the same time.  Shaw instructs Root to stop moving.  Root stops although it’s the last thing she wants to do.  "Nod yes if you want to stop."  Root stays absolutely still, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings.   As if she's reliving pleasant memories, Shaw casually says, "You know, like you, I've had a lot of experience with torture and one of the things I learned is depriving a prisoner of one sense tends to heighten their awareness of their remaining senses."  As Shaw talks, Root feels her body start trembling with anticipation, nipples hard, wet just thinking about what Shaw might do.  Well, truthfully, she was already wet before they started. 

Shaw wants Root to remember this night with her as something distinct from anyone she’s ever been with before.  She recognizes her strong need for possession, her need to mark Root as hers.   Extremely uneasy, Shaw takes a deep breath; the intensity’s overwhelming and she doesn't want to feel this way.  But in a surrender of her own, she ignores the voices in her head, yielding to her need for Root, knowing there will be consequences. 

Shaw scoots Root over a little so she can sit next to her on the couch.  She runs a nail down Root's chest, hard enough to scratch but not bleed, to her lower abdomen, following the trail with her tongue, barely touching Root's skin.  Arching, Root feels her need building like a tsunami inside her, wanting the pleasure and the pain like bondage and liberation.  “Sam.”   Knowing Root can’t see her, Shaw looks at Root with undisguised lust.  She licks her finger rubbing it across Root’s swollen lips, bruised from her earlier attentions.  Leaning in, her hot breath on Root’s neck, she whispers, “I’m going to make you cry my name like a prayer.”  Root’s mind is frantic, wound tight like the spring of a wind-up toy, waiting for Shaw’s touch.  Her imagination running wild like an open fire.  Her skin’s tingling like pins and needles, almost aching, waiting.  She pleads like a beggar for alms.  “Please Sam…just do it.  Whatever you want…” 

Shaw notices Root’s nipples are hard like Braille waiting to be read, body quivering and arching in anticipation.  Shaw strokes her clit lightly until Root prays for relief, desperation personified.  “Sam, please…” praying like a soul in purgatory longing for heaven.  But Shaw's touch fades away, but not, still echoing on her sensitive skin.  Stroking up from her clit to her breasts, circling her nipples, her finger coated with Root’s essence, Shaw slips it into Root’s mouth.  Root immediately sucks on it, sending a bolt of pleasure down Shaw’s body.  She pulls her finger out slowly and Root feels lost, like the moon at sunrise.  She uses the same finger to caress Root’s lips, bending down and lapping them slowly.  Root moans when she tastes herself in Shaw, reluctantly releasing Shaw’s lips when she pulls away, whimpering in protest.

Shaw begins blazing a trail over Root’s skin, her tongue like a dagger of heat, singeing every inch of her, coming unbidden but asserting its right.  She’s adrift in the feel of Root, her skin soft as a shadow.  But Shaw thinks her scent will be her undoing, its persuasive power stronger than any words Root could utter.  She can’t resist, it enters like a breath into her lungs, filling her up, imbuing everything.  There’s no remedy.

Root feels Shaw reach down to her center and run her fingertips gently over the surface and she feels her stomach tighten.  Shaw wants to watch Root so she slips the hood off, running her fingers through her hair until Root recovers her equilibrium.  Shaw looks into Root’s eyes.  “I’ll take care of you,” and Root submits like a slave to her master.   Shaw scoots down and eases her arms under Root’s thighs and her cool hands hold her firmly as she lifts Root to her lips like a penitent in prayer.  Root feels Shaw’s soft exhalations over her center and she melts in a furnace of desire.  It’s a few seconds before she becomes aware of the first movements of Shaw’s tongue.   She makes an oblique assault on Root’s folds, licking first up one side and then the other, each stroke opening Root up just a little more.   It last for minutes, Root’s frustration running through her veins like a rollercoaster.  Her voice like a rising storm, Root calls out to Shaw.  “Please Sam …I can’t take much more.” 

Root feels like her center is under a heat lamp and she’s melting like a snowflake in the water.  Shaw senses her agitation and moves her tongue to the base of Root’s sex.  Root expects her to lick upwards, but instead Shaw applies a steady pressure and somewhere inside Root a dam breaks.  Shaw gives a greedy moan taking everything Root gives like a glass of water and she's dying of thirst.  As Root calms, Shaw moves her tongue with renewed purpose.  The tip traces a path between Root’s folds, slowly pressing ever deeper until Root feels her inside.  Root gives a sigh like a prayer.  “Oh my God, Sam…”

It is not a passive invasion. Shaw’s tongue seems impossibly long as it twists and writhes. Root is so close to climax, but Shaw seems able to spark bundles of nerves that release the tension whilst still keeping her on the razor’s edge of orgasm.  Root is breathing hard, almost hyperventilating, and her skin is damp with sweat, but Shaw shows no mercy.  She seems tireless and determined Root is only going to come when she allows.  Root’s whimpering, pleading under her breath, when Shaw finally relents and seeks out her clit.

Root’s tempted to use her fingers to open herself for Shaw but Shaw denies her by closing her mouth over the crown of Root’s sex.  Her tongue touches Root’s clit and she’s so sensitized that she feels the almost imperceptible movements as Shaw draws a tiny figure eight.  It’s a delicious feeling.  Root’s sure that it won’t be enough of itself but she didn't count on Shaw’s patience.  She continues to coax at the same inexorable pace and after a few moments Root’s entire body is balanced on a single fulcrum of pleasure.  Shaw holds complete control of Root’s body on the tip of her tongue and she simply waits until Root melts into orgasm.  It is an almost indescribable feeling.  At first the waves of pleasure gently lap at Root but, with no obvious effort on Shaw’s part, they grow stronger and stronger threatening to drown her.  She literally fights for breath as her body shakes.  She regains her senses gradually to find Shaw brushing her sex like waves on the shore.  She cries out Shaw's name like a newborn.  "Sam..."  Root feels a fire kindle within her and that’s when she knows she’s in danger.  She's been playing with dynamite and if she's not careful it will explode both their worlds. 

Shaw runs a finger up Root’s sex and stands by Root’s head, facing her.  She reaches down between her own legs and pushes her wetted finger easily inside.  "Do you see what you do to me?"  Shaw’s eyes are half closed as she swivels her hand and pulls her finger free.  Root catches a hint of Shaw’s scent and her nostrils flare.   Shaw brushes her finger over Root’s mouth.  Her touch is soft like a breath and Root’s mouth tingles. She can’t help but taste them as Shaw presses her finger into her mouth. The knowledge it’s imbued with a combination of them both excites Root in a totally irrational way.   She lets Shaw’s finger play over her tongue, the taste like melted honey.

Without another word, Shaw straddles Root so her knees are pinning Root’s shoulders.  She feels uncomfortably enclosed but, at the same time, the intimacy is unnervingly arousing.  Shaw’s scent lies over her like a shroud and she sees the neat slit swollen open to reveal a moist, mouth watering, pinkness.  Root smiles and opens her mouth in acceptance as Shaw settles over her.

Root intends to make Shaw come in a way that will ruin her for anyone else.  Considering she can’t use her hands, she’s going to have to be creative.  She places soft kisses all over Shaw’s sex, like feathery strokes.  Her scent is intoxicating and Root would gladly stay drunk forever.  Still kissing her center, Root lightly uses her tongue, dipping shallowly inside, sucking gently on her clit, then on her entire sex, in and out of her mouth.  Shaw’s soft as cotton but warm inside.  “Root, you’re driving me crazy.”  Root smiles without removing her mouth, and Shaw looks down.  “I felt that…stop teasing.”    

Pulling back a little Root blows gently, almost imperceptibly, on her clit.  Shaw’s beginning to push down, trying to gain more friction.  She’s biting her lip in an obvious effort not to speak.  Root wraps her lips around Shaw’s clit, drawing it in, moving her tongue along the bottom ridge.  She moves her tongue tenderly up and down in the ridge and feels Shaw’s clit extend into her mouth.  Root glances up and sees Shaw like a prophecy coming true still biting her lip, pulling her hair, head thrown back, tendrils of her hair framing her face.     

Root engulfs Shaw’s clit with the whole of her mouth, moving the soft inside of her lips around the hood, while keeping the center of her lips wrapped around her clit.  Root slowly curves her tongue and slips it under the hood, just above her clit.  Root feels a slight electrical current, like her tongue ran over a copper wire.  She keeps moving her tongue over that spot, unhurriedly, like she has all the time in the world, burying herself inside.  She feels Shaw pulsing under her tongue.  Root stops for a second and Shaw howls like a wounded animal, looking down at Root like she’s been betrayed.  “Let me have my right hand and you won’t regret it.”  Shaw immediately, if not sooner, releases Root’s hand.

Root uses two fingers and slides them inside Shaw, reaching the spot right behind her clit.  She rests her fingers there, not moving, just pressing gently.  The pressure pushes Shaw's clit from behind, thrusting it further into Root’s mouth.  She sucks it like a baby on a bottle; Shaw’s very being flowing into her mouth.  Root begins to move her tongue in a slow rhythm, gently beginning to draw out Shaw’s orgasm.  ‘Fuck Root,” Shaw gasps, “I’ve never …” But she doesn’t finish as Root continues to push her clit softly from behind, pulling her tongue back on top of her clit.  Shaw locks onto her. 

Shaw’s breathing becomes shallow but rapid as her body melts into orgasm and Root’s mouth floods with moisture.  Root loses track of time until she feels a sudden reluctant relaxation as Shaw begins her slow decent.  When her breathing returns to normal, Shaw eases off Root.  She recognizes she was deluding herself and faces the stark reality; Root awakened something inide her.  Her life just got complicated.

Shaw’s legs can’t hold her and she slides down to the floor leaning against the couch by Root’s head, catching her breath.  The orgasm was intense as a tornado, fast, furious, leaving nothing in its wake.  Shaw’s completely spent.  Root licks her lips slowly and murmurs, “Mmmmm…I knew you wouldn’t regret it.” A self-satisfied look on her face.  Shaw rolls her eyes, but can’t bring herself to scowl.  They stay together in the silence.  Root closes her eyes, reliving the scene in her mind over and over.  The look on Shaw’s face when she climaxed, the sound of her voice crying Root’s name, the feel of being inside her.

The next thing she knows, Shaw's gone; she must have dozed off.  Shaw comes out from the bathroom toweling her hair but otherwise naked, casually telling Root “You better shower, it's almost time.”  Dazed, Root goes, taking her clothes with her.  Somehow she feels too vulnerable to walk around naked in the face of Shaw’s indifference.  When she comes out, Shaw's already sitting at the desk, impatiently waiting for the transport team, her stoic look in place.  For once, Root's not sure how to act or what to say.  What’s the protocol for talking to the person you just had sex with, who doesn’t want to talk or acknowledge you or the sex?   Not being a prostitute, Root's not sure.  Feeling hurt by Shaw’s attitude, Root remembers she agreed to the rules, so she can’t cry foul now.

Root takes comfort in knowing, whatever Shaw might pretend, this was not a one-night stand for either of them.  It was not just sex, and all of Shaw's wishing won't make it so.  Immediately cheering, Root knows Shaw needs time to process.  Besides, Root wants Shaw to have the room and freedom to be exactly herself.  Shaw glances up and looks at Root. Sensing she's about to talk, Shaw put a finger to her mouth, shakes her head, and mouths, never.  Shaw can’t process what just happened so she takes refuge in what she knows, anger.  Anger Root wouldn’t stop bugging her, anger Root didn’t stay the fuck away, and most of all anger Root’s making her feel things other than anger. 

The transport team arrives and they head to the black site. 


End file.
